"Head of the house, why isn’t Qianqian awake yet? I’m not going out to work today. I’ll stay home and watch our girl."
Jemima Sullivan looked sick with worry, her eyes red and swollen.
Yesterday afternoon, after school, her daughter, Josephine Sullivan, had gone up the hill to gather firewood. Who could’ve guessed she’d miss a step and roll right down the slope?
Good thing one of the educated youths saw it and rushed her to the clinic.
Every time Jemima thought of how her girl had looked yesterday—face covered in blood, skin white as paper, lying there without a sound—her heart felt like it was being sliced apart.
Godfrey Sullivan bent down and looked at the daughter lying on the kang. The little girl’s face was deathly pale. White gauze was wrapped around her forehead, and one patch had already been soaked through, red and dark with blood.
He let out a long sigh. "Alright. I’ll go to work. Don’t panic."
Outside in the yard, the gong calling people to the fields was clanging loud and sharp—"clang, clang"—pushing everyone to hurry up and earn their work points.
Godfrey Sullivan didn’t dare dawdle. He grabbed the hoe by the wall and headed out.
Seeing the thin layer of sweat on her daughter’s forehead, Jemima quickly wrung out a warm towel and carefully wiped her face.
A little later, she carried the earthenware basin and tiptoed out of the room.
Her footsteps faded farther and farther away. Only then did the Josephine Sullivan on the kang finally stir.
Her whole body felt limp, like she had no strength in it at all. Even moving a little took effort. Her eyelids were so heavy they felt packed with lead, and her head throbbed and spun, like something had smashed into it hard.
Little by little, her vision cleared.
Above her was a rough wooden frame, and dark gray roof tiles laid out neat and even.
Inside the room stood an old reddish cabinet, a table, and a chair. A few books were stacked on the table.
One wall was built from stones of all sizes piled together, with yellow mud still visible in the cracks. The other walls were made from nailed wooden planks.
Josephine froze for a second and looked around in a daze.
"Where is this? Some kind of farmhouse vacation experience?"
She had clearly been on a plane to France. She’d only closed her eyes for a nap. How had she opened them and ended up here?
She shook her foggy head, and right after that, wave after wave of strange memories poured into her mind like a mountain flood, washing away every bit of her confusion.
"I… crossed over!"
She had landed in the seventies, in a time when everything was scarce, where you needed certificates to go anywhere, ration tickets to buy things, and even filling your stomach was no easy matter!!
She’d just dozed off on a plane, and from a top-tier English interpreter in the twenty-first century, thirty-seven years old, she had turned into a fourteen-year-old village girl in Hongqi Village in 1975.
This girl had also been called Josephine Sullivan and was in fifth grade.
Yesterday, after school, she’d gone up the hill to gather firewood and accidentally stumbled onto a man and woman from the village hiding in a hollow, wrapped up in each other.
Those two had been going at it hot and heavy. She got so scared she turned and ran, slipped underfoot, and tumbled down the slope. Her forehead smashed against a rock, and she died on the spot.
When she opened her eyes again, the body was already carrying a different soul from decades later.
"Qianqian! My girl, you’re awake!"
A hoarse voice came over, rough but full of joy.
Josephine lifted her eyelids and saw a woman around thirty.
Her complexion was yellowish, and she wore a faded blue cloth jacket so washed out it had almost lost its color. There were several eye-catching patches sewn onto the cuffs and hem.
She didn’t know this face, yet a familiar warmth rose in her chest all the same, and the word slipped out of her mouth on its own:
"Mom?"
Jemima hurried over and helped her daughter sit up slowly.
"Does your head still hurt? You haven’t eaten all day. Hungry?"
When she saw her daughter staring straight at her, with a look like she was seeing her for the first time, Jemima couldn’t help asking again,
"What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?"
Josephine’s heart tightened. She quickly looked away and didn’t dare meet her eyes, afraid somebody would notice the soul inside this body had already changed.
Jemima watched her daughter sit there in silence, acting strange, and started to feel uneasy.
Usually this girl was sweet-tongued and chatty. Why was she so wilted and dull today?
"I cooked some rice porridge for you on the stove. I’ll go get you a bowl."
With that, she turned and went out.
Watching that hurried figure leave, Josephine finally let out a long breath.
Crossing through time was already unbelievable enough. If someone noticed the soul inside had changed, they might treat her like some evil spirit or demon. If that happened, she’d really be done for.
Her throat felt dry and sore, and the thought came to her on its own:
"If only I had some water."
In the blink of an eye, a bottle of cool mineral water appeared in her hand.
"Holy crap, the space came too!"
Her heart leaped. She twisted the cap open and gulped down more than half the bottle in one go. The cold water slid down her throat, and she felt a little more alive right away.
Afraid Jemima might come in suddenly, she quickly stuffed the bottle away and hid it again.
Her body was still weak. Josephine leaned against the head of the bed, breathing hard, and shut her eyes while sorting through the fresh memories in her head.
Footsteps came from outside, getting closer and closer. She quickly opened her eyes.
Jemima came in carrying a coarse porcelain bowl. She sat down by the bed, her voice soft.
"Qianqian, come on, drink this porridge. Can you hold the bowl yourself?"
Josephine nodded, took the bowl with both hands, lowered her head, and slowly drank it spoonful by spoonful.
"When you finish, lie down and rest proper. You hurt your head this time, and that’s no small thing. The doctor said you need to take care of yourself. There’s still a pile of work waiting at home, so Mom’s got to get busy. You lie down a while longer."
After reminding her a few more times, Jemima hurried out, gently pulling the door shut behind her.
Only then did Josephine finally relax a little.
She’d been hungry too long. How could one bowl of thin porridge be enough? She finished it in no time, but her stomach still felt empty.
With a thought, she remembered there were vegetable buns in her space. She quickly took one out and wolfed it down in a few bites.
As for that space, she’d gotten it last year while traveling in Yunsheng.
It had been a small wooden tag carved with a lotus. She’d taken one look and liked it right away, then bought it from a street stall for three hundred yuan.
Later, while cutting fruit, she accidentally nicked her hand. Blood dripped onto the wooden tag, her vision went black for a moment, and then a space appeared in her mind, about the size of two football fields.
The space could only store things. There was no spring water inside, and nothing could be grown there. But it kept things unbelievably fresh. Whatever went in stayed exactly the same when taken out, even better than a refrigerator. It could even digest trash on its own.
The Josephine Sullivan from the twenty-first century had done pretty well in translation work, and she also liked reading transmigration novels online.
Ever since she got the space, she’d kept wondering whether one day she might really transmigrate, or whether the world might suddenly go to hell. So she started stuffing supplies into the space like crazy.
Her family had originally been from the countryside. Back in college, she’d already been running a roadside stall to make money. Over the years, she’d learned a bit about investing too. She’d saved more than eight million in cash, had another fifteen million tied up in stocks and funds, and also owned an apartment worth ten million.
After getting the space, she didn’t hesitate. She sold all her stocks, sold the apartment too, rented a place for herself, and then started piling things into the space:
Twenty kilos of gold, grain bought from all over, daily necessities, medicine, cloth and clothes, books and seeds, vegetables, meat, water, self-defense gear, tools, and some rare goods that would be hard to get in this era.
She spent two full months getting everything ready. After all that, nothing happened.
Later, she just kept doing translation work, writing novels, and traveling around buying more stuff.
Who would’ve thought that after a whole peaceful year, one nap on a plane would really send her through!
She’d even purposely left one million in her bank account, bought a large accident insurance policy, and written a will. If something really happened to her, all the money would go to her parents.
Luckily, there was still a younger brother at home. If she was gone, her parents would still have someone to look after them.
From the memories left in the original owner’s mind, Josephine also figured out the family situation.
The girl’s parents had three sons and one daughter. The original owner was that daughter, with one older brother above her and two younger brothers below.
The family was poor, sure, but her parents didn’t favor boys over girls. They treated this daughter especially well. Usually they only had her tidy up around the house and never made her do heavy field work.
"Since I’ve taken your body, from now on, I’m Josephine Sullivan."
She said it silently in her heart.
"Your parents—I’ll take good care of them. I’ll make sure they get to live a good life."
That huge pile of supplies in her space was the strongest thing she had to rely on if she wanted to survive in this day and age.